Thirst
by SeventySevenDwarfs
Summary: Arthur has a thirst. Not the one that is quenched by alcohol or even water, but one that is quenched by being kissed and touched by a certain someone. Rated M for sexual content, not extremelly explicit. Threeshot.
1. Chapter 1

A creak of a bed resounded through the room as two bodies laid down on it. The creak was followed by a contented sigh. Hands touched skin that was softer than silk and damp from sweat. Arthur kissed the woman beneath him on the neck, travelling to her shoulders and ignoring her breasts. Her one finger was playing with his little hole. She probably had a fetish of the sort, but Arthur was one kinky man. His soft lips travelled back up her soft neck, her short blonde hair tickling his nose slightly. Suddenly he felt something not so soft against his cheek, something that had the same feel as an overused piece of sandpaper. With a curious frown the Brit looked at the woman and only to find that the person under him wasn't a woman at all. He might have not minded it as much if it wasn't Francis laying under him with a smug grin. "Please continue, mon amour" the Frenchman whispered into Arthur's red ear.

Arthur gasped and jolted upwards in his bed, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tried to catch his breath. His mind was still trying to make out whether the dream was a nightmare or just a really bad wet dream. Just to be sure, the Brit peeked under his sheet and saw how his pants tented from his weeping erection. He gulped and decided that the dream was not worthy a morning jerk. With a sigh, he got up from the creaky bed and walked to the bathroom to get a shower.  
His hair stuck to his face as he was pushed against the bathroom wall and was kissed deeply by the same Frenchman he had seen in his dream. He still felt the cold water hit his shoulders, but it only made him hum into the passionate tongue battle he and Francis were holding. Pressing a leg between Arthur's, the taller blonde managed to get a moan out of that pretty little mouth of Arthur. "Fra-"  
Arthur shot his eyes open, the cold water still hitting his bare chest and back while his wet hair had found their way into his green eyes – which were more the colour of a freshly polished emerald than grass. A frown found its place on his face as he realised that what just had happened actually hadn't. It was one of his naughty daydreams that he had so many times lately and always left him with a dry feeling in his mouth. But the dry feeling wasn't thirst, or you could say it was. You could call it a thirst for passionate kissing, the thirst for feeling the wet muscle inside his mouth. Arthur gulped and turned the water colder, almost shrieking as it hit his creamy skin. The Brit wasn't really the cold water type, he usually took baths so hot that it left his pale skin red.  
Once he had found himself to be calmed down enough, Arthur stepped out of the shower. He quickly had found his clothes and looked out of the window. The bright shine of the sun – which barely ever visited England – was hurting his eyes and made him squint. It was a beautiful day, but it didn't seem so beautiful to the short blonde. With a low grunt he took his wallet, key and phone and went out. He wouldn't be back till late. _Very _late.

The first call came when he was sitting on a bench in the park. A loud 8-bit melody hitting his ears and destroing his train of thought abruptly. Arthur's thick browns rose and soon dropped once he looked at the caller ID that was proudly displaying "moron" with a picture of a frog. Not feeling up to have a chat with Francis after his wanton dreams, Arthur pressed the red button and ended the call. Stupid Frenchman. The bright green eyes returned to the clear sky and hazed once the Brit got back onto his small mind train and rode off.

Arthur was sitting in a pub, looking at a beautiful lady not so far from him. He bought her a drink – non alcoholic, mind you - , like a real gentleman would when he wanted to get a damsel's attention. She had gorgeous plump lips, short blonde hair, sky blue eyes. And most importantly, she had really big breasts. Arthur beamed from success when she placed her soft gaze to him and a soft smile curved her sweetlooking lips. The woman stood up from her chair and walked over to him. They both knew what they wanted: the warmth of someone else without any consequences.  
They tumbled into his bedroom, messy kisses exchanged between them as the lady – no matter how Arthur had seen a woman, they would always get the needed respect from him – was pushed on the bed by Arthur's comfortable weight. His lips travelled all over her and made her moan while her hands were busy with pleasuring him. It must have been the alcohol, or maybe something else, but Arthur didn't feel much. Maybe it was just because there were no other feelings than lust involved, or maybe because he was still too shocked from his dream; but his need to kiss was not quenched.  
Her breasts were pressed against his chest as she moaned and held onto him, her head lost in pleasure while Arthur was doing his best to find his own while thrusting in and out of her. After having given the woman three orgasms and not having gotten any himself, the Brit gave up, blaming alcohol. Luckily the lady forgave him and left early home.

Arthur was laying on his back, his erection long dead, and was staring at the dark ceiling above him that showed how cars passed by, making it light up. He sighed and turned onto his side. The Brit wasn't drunk, not a tiny bit. It was just the stupid Frenchman that had settled himself inside his mind like some sort of a parasite and wasn't planning on letting him go. Arthur groaned and stood up, walking over to his small cabinet.  
The chrystal bottle was only half filled. The Brit always made sure that he only would it fill half, not more or less. The bottle glugged happily as it was tipped over slightly so the goldish brown liquid would fill a whiskey glass. Arthur wanted to get drunk, drunk enough to forget what religion he was part off, drunk enough to forget his name and most importantly: drunk enough to forget about Francis. The cold glass felt very inviting against his soft lips and he was about to tip it over to down the nice drink so he could feel the burning feeling in his throat when he heard the 8-bit music interrupt him for the second time that day. Thinking that it wasn't smart to answer the phone when drunk, Arthur put the full glass down and fished his phone out of his pants – which were sprawled over the floor. Same caller ID, same picture. _Frog_. He sighed and finally answered it.  
"Hello?" he asked with an obviously irritated tone.  
"Bonjour, Angleterre" resounded from the other end of the line.  
"Speak the language I understand, frog"  
"How cold…" Francis responded with a laugh.  
"What do you want?"  
"The meeting has been overplaced to tomorrow"  
And before the Brit had time to retort and protest, the call ended. Stupid Frenchman.  
With a low sigh and grunt Arthur walked over to the cabinet and chugged down the bottle of whiskey and the glass he had prepared for himself before the call. The burning feeling calmed him and he waddled over to his bed giddily before plopping on it.

That night was the first night ever that he masturbated while thinking about the Frenchman.


	2. Chapter 2

His hands gripped onto the headboard of the bed as his chest was being kissed down. He thought that it was ok since Francis had passed his nipples already, but suddenly the scrub moved upwards and suddenly lips wrapped around the perked nub before sucking it softly. A sultry moan escaped Arthur's mouth as his hands tried to escaped from the bounds that tied them together. He wanted to touch the Frenchman, feel his skin. The Brit's chest fell and rose as he arched his back, trying to get as much as possible from the other. "Francis" he breathed and reached his hips upwards as he tried to get more friction. The man on top of him chuckled darkly and brought Arthur's hips back down. "Patience.. didn't you say once that it was a virtue?"  
"Fuck the virtues… now fuck me."  
A chuckle traveled through the warm air in the room.

_Bzzzt. Beep.  
Bzzzt. Beep.  
__Bzzzt__. Beep._

Arthur woke up lazily, some of his drool on the pillow. The sun irritated his eyes and it hurt his head. He sat up, feeling how his head seemed to split in two. "Ugh…. I'm never drinking again.." he muttered the same half assed promised as he usually did after a night of binge drinking. The Brit threw the alarm across the room as it annoyed him and eventually ended up breaking it. The bed creaked as he got off of it and made his way to the bathroom only to be greeted by his erection. Damn it.

Arthur sat on his chair in the meeting room. He was always early, always. His bottle green eyes scanned the empty room. The chairs stood nearly behind little desks with name cards and needed files on them. Each desk counted exactly two pens and one glass with a water bottle. The room itself was tidied up neatly and a big grandfather clock decorated one wall. The Brit sighed, he loved the meeting room, it had different emotions hidden in it. It was calming and yet so aggressive.  
After about ten minutes other people started walking in into the meeting room, first of them was Ludwig who had dragged his big brother along to the meeting – even though he wasn't part of it anymore, how weird – then came Alfred, who for once wasn't twenty minutes late just to make a starbucks joke. After Alfred came Kiku, Ivan, Raivis, Eduard. Slowly most of the 'nations' were present, only two were still missing, though. Francis came second last and Yao came about twenty minutes late, explaining that he didn't even regret being so late. Once everyone had settled down and Ludwig had taken the place of being the leader of the meeting, the seating started.  
It was just as usual, Ivan and Alfred tried to take over the meeting and did their best to work against each other just because of their own very selfish reasons. The smaller 'nations' weren't really able to say anything as they didn't have any VETO rights, making some very important opinions unheard.  
Arthur scanned the meeting and watched how the most people fight about the problem in Syria. Usually he would have butted in and fought along them, but that day, he really didn't feel like letting his voice being heard. The others had noticed it, and most importantly, Francis had noticed it.  
"Rosbif", that was how he called Arthur now and then, " is zere something wrong?" the Frenchman asked slightly worried about his companion.  
"Hmm?" Arthur asked as he lazily looked up at the Frenchman, their eyes meeting just for a slight second before he had to look away so that the thick blush that was about to spread on his cheeks didn't get the chance to complete its mission. "I'm very well, thank you. I just don't feel like talking for the moment. Because what will it do? If even just one person with the VETO right decides to oppose me it'll go into the water."  
"Wow, you're deep today... How about I'll cheer you up by buying you a drink after the meeting?"  
"Drinks" Arthur corrected him with a smirk and went back to the meeting.  
Now Ivan was being backed up by Yao, so the no flight zone above Syria could be completely forgotten. Why? It was easy to explain actually. China has a haven in Syria while Russia brings weapons to the country.

Everyone was frustrated by the end of the meeting and Arthur was so glad that he had decided to take Francis up on his promise. No one even looked at them weirdly when the pair went to a pub together, they did that quite a lot.  
The pub was really cozy. It was warm inside, the seats were made from leather and had a green colour. The bar was made out of wood and the shelves were filled with different alcoholic beverages. This was the place where Arthur felt himself at home. A smile finally settled itself on his face as he sat on a stool and ordered a whiskey from the barman – not before having waiting his turn in the invisible queue of course.  
After three glasses of the goldish beverage, Arthur had opened quite a lot and spoke about different things to the Frenchman. How he dreamed of them making out, how he didn't enjoy having sex with a really beautiful woman even though he usually would have, how he only wanted Francis.  
Francis sat and listened to the Brit, chuckling slightly. It was amusing for him to know that the other felt that way about him, but he also knew that it was nothing more than the alcohol talking. He paid for the drinks like he had promised and helped the slightly shorter blonde up. "Let's get you home, chèr" he said with an amused smile as he helped the Brit up.  
The walk home was a quiet one, no one said anything. Francis was busy placing the things that were said in the right places of his mind. He was struck by surprise when, once at Arthur's door, the Brit had turned around and pulled the Frenchman into the kiss. At first he enjoyed the kiss, deepening it and it wasn't until Arthur had pushed his tongue inside his mouth that he tasted the alcohol and realised that the other was drunk. No matter how much he enjoyed kissing him, Francis wanted to kiss him when he was sober. He wanted to enjoy the feeling of knowing that his partner kissed him – or even made love with him – from genuine feelings and not alcohol.  
"You're drunk..." he said with a sad smile as he pulled the Brit away from the kiss, earning a whine from him.  
"Ahm nah drunk" Arthur slurred over his words and tried to lean in again, but was stopped.  
"Let's get you to your bed"

The bed creaked under them as they both laid down on it. Both still clothed and not panting like in Arthur's imaginations. The warm blanket slid over his body as Francis tucked him in and laid comfortably next to him, watching how the Brit slowly closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Thinking that it was better to go and sleep in another bed, Francis sat up but was stopped by two slender arms wrap around him and pull him closer to Arthur. Deciding that there was no other way around it, Francis laid down on the bed and closed his eyes, holding Arthur close to him and resting his chest on the messy blonde hair.

The sun stung the Brit's eyes, but a nice smell kept him calm. He was snuggling against something warm and nice smelling, how could he complain? His eyes looked up and a blush finally won the fight and thus decided to take its well-deserved place on his cheeks. "Fra-Francis?! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" he shouted as he backed away so far he almost fell off the bed.  
Francis light blue eyes opened themselves, taking a little while to readjust themselves to the bright light. "Hm?" he asked before sitting up and rubbing his one eye, his shirt wrinkled.  
He was wearing clothes, good; the Brit thought. That meant they didn't do anything stupid or anything both of them would later regret.  
"You have drunk too much and I brought you home, when I wanted to get up and go to sleep in your guestroom you didn't want to let go off me, rosbiff..." he explained with a soft smile.

Arthur relaxed but tensed up immediately as he felt a hand on his cheek. His green eyes searched and soon found Francis' blue ones, their colours mixing in the stare.  
"You know, chèr, you have told me quite a lot yesterday..." Francis said with a purr.

* * *

I'm really happy so many of you enjoyed the last chapter and I would really love if I would get some comments too.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur frowned at Francis' words, wondering what he had told him the last night as he even barely remembered having drinks with the Frenchman. He tried to lie to himself, tried to tell himself that he didn't tell the older blonde what he wanted from him. Well, it at least wasn't something he felt for him, that much he knew. "What have I told you yesterday?" he asked unsure on whether he actually wanted to learn the answer to that. Much to his surprise, Francis didn't answer him verbally, his answer was nothing more than a deep chuckle before his hands pulled the Briton's face closer to his and their lips met in an innocent kiss. Arthur tried to fight it, but his body didn't listen. Instead, his arms snaked around Francis' shoulders and brought him closer, deepening the kiss as their lips moved along each other. It felt so much better than kissing with that beautiful woman from two nights ago.  
An appreciative hum resounded from Francis' throat as he felt the pressure of those soft and plump lips on his. They were much softer than he had expected. It was good.  
Francis knew that Arthur wouldn't let his tongue in that easily, he was just too stubborn for that. So there didn't rest anything else for him to do than grab the other's behind and make him gasp. If he had known that gasps could sound so needy, he would probably never had done that as now his pants were getting a bit too tight on his crotch. The Frenchman disregarded the discomfort from that and just immediately stuck his tongue inside Arthur's mouth, exploring the hot and wet cavern before the Brit's wet muscle rubbed against his, inviting him first for a dance but then for a fiery battle. Moans, hums and gasps filled the room as the kiss had turned into a hot make out session where hands didn't feel so shy anymore to wander around the two bodies that were pressed tightly and moved against each other. Arthur felt how his head was slowly getting dizzy, losing its focus on reality before Francis pulled away for the much needed air. Their eyes met, their colours drowning each other in lust while the Brit's shaking lips moved slightly as he tried to find the words to make the man on top of him continue the nice ministrations that he did to his body.  
"Please…", he managed to whisper, "… more". The last word was a mix between a breathless whisper and a sultry moan that hit Francis head – and heart – in the right spot. Another chuckle was heard before Francis leaned down and plunged his lips onto Arthur's neck. His mouth was giving wet smooches that were followed by sharp bites and eventually sensual sucks, making Arthur's head spin as he was too far gone in the pleasure to be able to go back.  
Not wanting to feel completely useless, Arthur's hands helped undoing Francis' now completely wrinkled shirt before letting them wander all over the soft skin over the body. He had imagined it to be more like silk, but it wasn't. It was the same feeling as a peach that was on the perfect ripeness. Arthur gulped and bit the Frenchman's shoulder to know if it tasted sweet too. It didn't, but the taste, oh God, did it fill his mind with the need for more of that delicious taste. His tongue ran across Francis' shoulder, collarbone and eventually his neck. The blonde on top of him smirked, knowing that Arthur was enjoying this more than he could ever possible imagine him to.  
Francis pressed on Arthur's knees to motion him that he had to spread them, to which the Brit more than happily obliged. With a swift sweep of his leg, the Frenchman soon laid between those gorgeous thighs and let his hands run over them as he hummed in appreciation of the writhing blonde under him. The green orbs were now half lidded as lust was getting the better of him and made him buck his hips upwards for the much needed friction, much to Francis' surprise. Unlike in Arthur's dream, the other did not push his hips down but happily obliged to the grinds, moving his hips so that their groins were pressed together and rubbed against each other. There needed to be less clothing between them, Francis thought as his erection was starting to strain rather painfully against his pants. It seemed as if their thoughts were synched as Arthur had started unbuttoning Francis' pants and bringing the other's hand towards his own trousers to show him that he had to do the same.

Their clothes were lying on the ground, messed up as shortened breaths and moans travelled through the room. This was not the same as the dream, it was better. Hands travelled in all the places Arthur hadn't even dreamt of them travelling, Francis' stubble travelling downwards. The Brit had just thought that he would get a blowjob and wasn't prepared to actually be rimmed instead. His eyes widened as he felt the wet muscle rub small circles in such a perfect way while a finger entered him. He thought it would hurt, but it didn't. Sure, it did feel slightly unfamiliar and strange, but he didn't hate it, especially when the long finger pressed a spot inside him that made him see white. "Ah! Francis!" Arthur moaned, being vocally appreciative to the deed. "There!" he begged while angling his hips slightly, wanting that nice bliss again. Second finger was entered and stretched the entrance while the tongue slipped inside to make it a bit slipperier. The Brit was about to wince at the fingers when that spot was hit again, making his voice free.

The bed creaked under the slow and sweet movements as Arthur's neck was being kissed and his weeping erection stroked. He was being thrust into slowly and it felt so teasingly, yet so _good_. The movements went faster, harder and made them both feel only better and better. A loud moan and a grunt resounded in the room as Francis and Arthur finally had reached their release.

Arthur didn't remember how many positions they had tried or how many times they had found their fleeting bliss. The only thing he knew that he had sex with the Frenchman and that it was good.

* * *

I'm finally done with this.

Like I had said, nothing too explicit.

Reviews are more than welcome!


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